


What Once Was

by BTSXPRESS



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Dark, Dream Smp, Emotional Manipulation, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Realistic Minecraft, Tags May Change, TommyInnit Needs a Break (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BTSXPRESS/pseuds/BTSXPRESS
Summary: “No matter what happens here, it’s me and you versus Dream.”High tides of war clash and intertwine at last in this very moment where it all began and where it all will end. From the very beginning Tommy knew this was where the field would be set, knew that in the inevitable end it was always him and Dream.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write difficult and complex stories, but this one won't be like that (hopefully). I wanted to write a short fanfic about the Dream SMP (mostly because it has me hooked), so here is my attempt.
> 
> Tommy will be the main character (there will be other POVs as well), and there is a lot of pain waiting ahead for him. But that's okay. It all works out at the end of the day. There will be violence (heed the tags), so read with caution. Also, I am going to try to make this as realistic as possible. You might be wondering how I will do that with the Minecraft functions, but it works (somewhat). So just know what to expect.
> 
> The characters will not have three lives. If they die, they die for real. Other things, like the Minecraft functions, will be explained as worldbuilding later, but most of them will be portrayed realistically with a hint of fantasy.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for clicking on this story, and I hope you enjoy it.

There was blood in the air. 

Murder. 

Betrayal.

Across the field of fallen warriors, friends, enemies and allies alike, Tommy trudged through the old memories of L’Manberg, netherite sword in hand. His grip was tight around the hilt, the leather of his fingerless gloves stretching from the pressure. Beneath his boots, charred grass disintegrated and gravel crunched, the sound echoing across the somber sky colored by its amorphous, grey clouds. 

On the other side of the barren field was Dream standing in full netherite, his mask covering his face. Even though Tommy couldn’t see, he could hear the smile in Dream’s voice. 

“Tommy, you came.”

Just hearing those words made Tommy’s blood boil. “It ends here, Dream.”

Dream only chuckled, the contours of a shield and an axe glowing before manifesting in his hands. “Do you really think you can kill me?”

Tommy grazed his fingers over the compass hanging by a chain around his neck. For Tubbo. For everyone. He squeezed the compass once before swinging his arm to the side, the familiar weight of a shield locking onto his forearm. “I do. I’m gonna end everything today.”

Dream took a step forward. “Then come and try.”

After all that had happened, this was where it all would end. In L’Manberg. In the ruins of a fallen nation. In the midst of a tomb brimming with forgotten memories and lost companions.

Tommy raised his sword. For the first time in a while, the atmosphere in L’Manberg shimmered with tension, and the last of the crows remaining in the abandoned structures fled in small flocks, cawing loud cries. Without another moment to waste, Tommy propelled himself towards Dream, and as their weapons clashed, the final battle commenced.


	2. One

_Three Months Earlier_

The taiga was tranquil from afar, the frost-covered trees swaying under the avalanche of snow. Snowflakes swivelled towards the earth under the moonlight, lifting and falling, about to join their kin resting in a cushion of white when a foot stomped over their path.

Tommy was running—away from Logstedshire, away from Dream. He shoved past stray branches that shot right back into position, dropping its baggage of ice, and stumbled over thick roots curling above the hardened soil. Sticks snapped in his wake and snow crunched. In the dead of night, the sounds echoed around him.

His body was numb, and each second, he lost more of his sensations. He longed for a fire, for shelter, and as he carried on, the cloak that was wrapped around him did little to maintain his warmth. A haze settled through the trees, making him shiver. Monsters would soon roam the land, but the only weapon he had on his person was a stone sword he was sensible enough to loot from a forgotten chest in Logstedshire—a stone sword that was cracked and falling apart, unsuitable for combat should Tommy need it.

But it was better than nothing. Once he had realized that Dream was the cause of all his problems—the root of darkness in his plans for a bright future—Tommy escaped Logstedshire with nothing but a stone sword, some stale bread, and the clothes on his back. He needed to return to L’Manberg. He needed to return to Tubbo.

His Your Tubbo compass hung from a chain around his neck, bumping against his chest to the uneven rhythm of his sprint. Its travel arrow was sporadically twisting and turning with an enchanted glimmer, the sign that somewhere out there Tubbo was alive. And that one fact was what kept Tommy from ending it all in Logstedshire.

He had been standing by the shoreline, watching the remnants of the ocean’s waves splash against his white shoes. He was so close to wading into the ocean and letting the water take him wherever when the travel arrow of his Your Tubbo compass started spinning wildly. During his entire time in exile, it had never done that, so Tommy carefully studied it. And in those solemn moments, he had burst into tears at what he had almost done. It was then the epiphany had hit him.

It was always Dream. From the very beginning up to now, it was always Dream.

So Tommy ran like hell from the beach—where he left a wooden sword thrust in the sand and his green bandanna around its hilt, leaning to the right as it faced the setting sun—and travelled towards the blurry mountains in the distance with one goal in mind: get to L’Manberg.

But once the sun fell, his new goal became to survive at all costs and to find shelter somewhere in this godforsaken forest. The temperature was getting impossibly colder, and the snow was falling faster, almost like sleet. Everywhere he looked, there were only more spruce trees obscured behind the precipitation, and if he stayed out here any longer, he would start seeing eyes too.

He had to break free from the trees, find a clearing, and he made quick work of it. Ignoring the prickling protest from his legs, he picked up his pace and forged his own path through the snow—dodging branches and jumping over rocks. The farther he ran, the more the brush thinned until all that remained was a few trees dotting a frost-barren glade. 

A snowstorm was developing—the harsh winds that bit his face was enough of a hint—so pulling the billowing ends of his cloak closer towards his skin, Tommy ducked his head and pushed onward. Every step felt like his last and drained the remains of his energy over and over again, but his Your Tubbo compass reminded him that he needed to get to L’Manberg.

It wasn’t long before he discerned a bleared structure in the distance that looked remarkably similar to a house in a village, and in that moment, all he felt was a rush of hope blossoming within his numb body.

There would be fire.

Shelter.

Warmth.

He plowed through the layers of snow, his excitement enough to boil his blood and revitalize his dwindling spirit. When he finally arrived at the structure, he was proven correct. It was a house in an abandoned village—or so Tommy presumed since there was no light in the area. Approaching the nearest house, he covered his hand as best as he could with the ends of his cloak and reached for the handle. It was frozen in place, so he pressed down with both hands and jumped, mustering the last of his might. On his fifth attempt, the door opened, and he tumbled into the house, landing straight on his front.

Standing was a pain with his sore muscles, but he made do. The howling wind blew the flapping door in with a barrage of ice and snow, which coated the meager bearings of the house, but with his valiant efforts, Tommy closed the door at last, shutting out all of the sounds of the outside storm. He breathed in and out, watching his crystallizing breaths swirl in the air as he leaned against the door, and when his pounding heart eased, he finally searched for a fireplace.

From what Tommy could tell, there wasn’t much in the house. Half of a furnace laid unattended and covered in dust next to an open chest, and scattered across the wood floor were chopped logs of spruce wood. Cobwebs hung from the corner of the rooms and windows that were cracked, and pebbles bounced down the unfinished cobblestone stairs. It wasn’t really what Tommy would call a home.

Sitting cross legged, Tommy brought his flint and steel to his hand with a quick flash and threw some of the logs into the half-furnace. Fortunately, the logs were dry, so kindling the sparks into a flame wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be.

Red light flooded the area, along with its welcomed warmth, and Tommy immediately rested his hands near the heat. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he vaguely recalled someone—perhaps Technoblade or Phil—warning him about fires at night, but because he felt life returning to his soul, he shrugged it off.

In all honesty, he was lucky to be alive, lucky to find this abandoned village, and if his fortune streak persisted, maybe Dream wouldn’t notice his absence from Logstedshire. Maybe Dream would even assume Tommy was dead when he found the wooden sword and green bandanna on the beach. That wouldn’t be so bad.

Clutching his Your Tubbo compass and cozying himself in his cloak, Tommy tried his best to get some rest against a couple of rotten wood planks while, unbeknownst to him, monsters lurked the area, peeking behind the leaves of the spruces and creeping towards a faint red light burning through the broken windows of a house. And across the snowy taiga, standing at a beach staring down at a wooden sword stuck in the sand was a masked man. He held a netherite sword wrapped in wool but dropped it beside the wooden sword on the beach. Underneath his mask, his lips tilted up into a calm smile. 


	3. Two

Technoblade needed to go on an adventure, and the state of his netherite armor was enough of a reason. Fissures were opening on the surface of his chestplate and the wither skulls engraved on his pauldrons were effaced from the wear and tear of battle. And if that wasn’t reason enough, then the voices in his head whispering for bloodshed were.

Ever since the aftermath of the Manberg and Pogtopia War, Techno had been on what he liked to call “retirement.” He had settled in a cabin he built in the middle of the tundra, and after a long while of peace, the voices in his head had died to silence. But now and then they returned with full force, and this time, Techno happened to find the perfect solution: an adventure.

So he walked out of his cabin in full netherite, not forgetting to leave a note just in case Phil happened to drop by, and made his way through the thin veil of snow to his prized horse Carl. The crescent moon beamed down on the small stable beside Techno's cabin, and once he opened the gate to Carl's pen, Techno was met with the brunt strength of Carl's head nuzzling his chest.

Chuckling, Techno gently stroked Carl's head with his netherite gauntlets. "We are going on an adventure tonight."

Techno wasn't going to lie. Even though he had a spare set, he needed more netherite to patch up his current armor and weapons, but the Nether wasn't any place for a horse. The sheer heat would kill Carl, so Techno opted to search the area and maybe explore a cave or two he would stumble upon. It wasn't a terrible alternative.

From the chest resting at the back of the pen, Techno pulled out the netherite horse armor and started to gear Carl up. He was about halfway through, strapping the leather saddle, when his ears caught the sound of boots crunching in the snow from far away. Stopping what he was doing, he glanced at the edge of the forest, where he saw none other than Dream with his hands in his pockets and mask hiding his face.

It was actually a shock that Dream of all people was here. Techno had managed to stay on good terms with the guy and thought that not meeting him was the perfect way to maintain their somewhat cordial relationship. Apparently Dream didn't share Techno's sentiments.

"Dream, what brings you here?" Carl whinnied as Techno dropped his hands to his sides, on high alert for any sudden movement from his unexpected guest. 

Dream, who was silent up until that point, stopped about ten paces away from the stables, standing in the shadows behind the line of torchlight slicing across the snow. From his pocket, he pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. "I wanted to give you something."

Techno stepped out of Carl's pen and closed the gap between them. As he accepted the parchment, the warm torchlight tinged Techno's armor yellow and traced a distinct divide over the snow. Techno stood in the light, while Dream was shrouded in the late gloom.

When Techno unrolled the parchment, he realized it was a map to a woodland mansion. The voices in his head roared with a renewed vigor.

 _Danger_.

“What's this, Dream?” Techno raised a brow. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“It's more like a token of my appreciation for the decision you made at L'Manberg.”

Techno still remembered how Dream nudged him towards chaos that day, stirring the violence within him. Wariness crept into the back of his mind, but he didn’t show it. “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Then take it as a retirement gift.”

Hesitating only for a moment, Techno stored the map away, and the parchment disappeared in white light. "What do you really want?”

Dream’s inscrutable mask stared at Techno, and it was one of the few things that unsettled him. He couldn’t read Dream. Learning his personality and characteristics were easy, but getting in his head. . . . No matter how long Techno knew him, he never knew what dark plans the man had in mind.

“I think that old friends should be honest with each other.” Dream’s words were slow and calculating, weaving threads of fabric in their own mysterious ways. “What do you think?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘honest’.”

Dream turned his head towards the forest to his right, musing at nothing, at least from what Techno could tell. “It means that I ran into some complications, and I wanted to ask if you were willing to tell me if someone—I don’t know maybe Tommy—shows up at your door.”

A false friend was worse than an open enemy, and Dream fell into both categories. “The last time I saw Tommy was at L'Manberg, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t come looking for me of all people.”

An aura of slight chagrin radiated from Dream. “I see.” His smiling mask studied Techno, then Carl and his closed pen, before straying back to the forest. “A storm is coming. I don’t think it’s the best time for adventure.”

Techno sniffed the air. Brisk. Freezing ice. “We’ll see.”

When Dream did not say any more, he nodded. “Then, I guess I’ll see you later, Technoblade.”

“And I will too, Dream.”

Boots crunching in the snow, Dream walked back towards the forest before disappearing in the darkness, leaving Techno staring at his receding form in silent contemplation.

* * *

When Tommy woke up, it was freezing and dark. His fingers were frozen around his Your Tubbo compass, and after pushing himself onto his forearms, he saw that the fire in the half-furnace had gone out. Unclenching his stiff hands took some effort, but when he finally managed to spread his palms, he grappled for his flint and steel and hopelessly tried to light another fire with his fumbling fingers.

Each attempt was poorer than the previous, and on the fourth strike, the sound of rattling bones echoing in the night balked his movements. A stray. It was in that moment with the adrenaline rushing to his brain that the vague warning in the back of his consciousness surfaced, and Techno’s deadpan voice reverberated in his ears.

 _Never light a fire in the dark_ , Techno had said to Tommy one night many years ago when they camped outside, staring at the flames waning under the harsh breeze. _It attracts monsters as much as it scares them away, so if you’re alone and you don’t have a death wish, don’t light a fire._

It was too late for that, though. An arrow whizzed through the broken window directly above Tommy, and glass shards showered over him as he ducked and hid behind the half-furnace. This was not good. It was only one stray, but many people met their last breath facing a single monster. 

And as if his situation wasn’t precarious already, the distinct sound of a creeper sizzling in the background made Tommy lose all sense of reason. Immediately, he shot out of the house and ran, ignoring the searing heat chasing after him as the explosion blew a crater in the middle of the abandoned village. He sprinted towards the forest as arrows zipped past him, barely grazing his cloak, tearing the fabric and drawing the smallest hint of blood from his shoulder.

The moonlight reflected off of the snowflakes flitting over his cloak that waved behind him like a billowing cape, and the deeper in the forest he found himself, the more monsters surrounded him. He couldn’t see anything but the whites and reds of eyes glaring at him from behind the leaves. 

Spiders crawled out of the shadows and dropped from the tops of the trees, their skittering steps sending chills writhing up Tommy’s spine, and from the depths came another sizzle. Before he was blown to smithereens, Tommy covered himself with his cloak as the explosion propelled him off his feet and into a tree. His back smacked against solid bark before he landed on his rear, and as he dragged himself up, his wet pants sank into his legs like sharp talons. The frost against his bare arms was excruciating, and his red elbow peeked at him through a new frizzling hole in his cloak.

Monsters encircled him, so he summoned his stone sword that glowed with a faint white outline and swung it with vigor. “Stay back!”

A torch would’ve been nice, but he didn’t have that luxury. The sword was the peak of his fortune. Still, he had a flint and steel in his pocket, and there were creepers all over the place. He took one look at the new crater separating him from the monsters across, at the gunpowder coloring the snow black, and a light bulb flickered in his head.

Picking up a dried branch lying in the crater, he threw it at the closest creeper he could spot and took cover behind a tree trunk. Explosions boomed from behind and shook the ground, taking most of the monsters with them, and when the last creeper blew up, Tommy violently struck the steel with the flint and let the sparks fall. The gunpowder erupted into bright flames that swallowed the trees and stretched the skin on Tommy’s face dry. 

The spiders hissed, the zombies groaned, and another fucking creeper sizzled before blowing up, luckily far enough away from Tommy to not do much harm other than nearly bring him to death with a heart attack. Along with the wildfire burning sky-high, small flames dotted the vicinity, so Tommy took the opportunity to spread it as much as he could, throwing burning sticks onto the dried leaves and scorched trees until there was a forest fire that shielded him from the monsters.

Storing his stone sword away in a flash of light, he lifted what remained of his abused his cloak—which reeked of gunpowder and soot—to his nose and ran into the forest, further and further, until he escaped into an open field where ice covered the hills and mountains stretched over the landscape. He stumbled into the snow, which was deeper than the layers in the forest, and his arms sank all the way to his shoulders. 

Yelping and cursing, he pulled his blazing arm free and let the pain throb to numbness before forcing his legs through the thick blanket of snow, drawing two lines behind his path. Sleet and hail swirled in the air like a tempest and slowed Tommy’s pace, but he did not quit. He needed to find shelter.

Even the monsters didn’t dare to follow him into the snowstorm, so he was safe from their advances. The only enemy in his way was nature itself. Seconds passed like hours, and Tommy was losing sensation in his legs. His entire body burned as if it was being torched alive in freezing fire, and drowsiness clouded his mind.

He wanted to sleep, to take a quick nap, but if he did, he knew he would never wake up. He would never see Tubbo again. So holding onto his Your Tubbo compass, Tommy trudged onward, fighting against the sleet and hail pounding against his front.

He had to get to L’Manberg. 

He had to get to Tubbo.

He had to settle his matter with Dream and get his discs back.

One step and another. Tommy continued with one step and another. All he had to do was survive. He did not flee Logstedshire, break free from Dream's manipulation, to die such a pitiful death. Even if he did die, he would barge through the doors of death and return to the Overworld to finish what he started, so with one step and another, he battled for life.

Ahead, he only saw snow, sleet, hail, and the like, so he couldn’t help but feel disheartened. After everything that had happened—after Schlatt became president, after Wilbur blew up L’Manberg, after Techno betrayed everyone, and after Tubbo exiled Tommy—this could be the end.

Finding another village would be nearly impossible, and even if he did, if it was abandoned, he didn’t have the resources to light a fire. He grabbed his compass, which was still spinning wildly, and imagined what Tubbo’s Your Tommy compass looked like. Was it spinning slowly? Was its enchanted luster diminishing? Was Tommy really going to die here?

Because he was so lost in thought, he tripped and face-planted into the piles of snow. At this point, his body didn’t even register the cold. His arms and legs felt bloated, and his tongue was thick in his mouth as he spit out the ice. There was nothing in the distance, and the weather blurred everything anyways. He was so tired. Maybe he could rest a little, take a short nap.

His heavy eyelids drooped. All he wanted was a quick nap. That would make everything better. The tears gathered at the corner of his eyes froze, and his grip around his Your Tubbo compass loosened.

He pictured the beach at Logstedshire, his sword facing the sun sinking below the horizon. Dream must’ve found it by now, and it didn’t matter anymore whether he assumed Tommy was dead or alive. 

The stars in the night sky winked, and the moonlight glistened between the raging storm of ice. Tommy was on the brink of shutting his eyes and giving up. Wilbur was waiting on the other side, and whatever awaited Tommy there couldn’t be as horrible as enduring another second in the cold.

Closing his eyes and letting his body relax was rejuvenating, so he allowed the promise of rest to drag him deeper into slumber. In his dreams, he was running with Tubbo on the Prime Path towards their bench overlooking L’Manberg, and as they watched the sunrise, Tubbo pulled out a disc from his ender chest and played it in the jukebox next to the bench. As the notes to Cat swirled in Tommy’s ears, he faced Tubbo and smiled. 

But Tubbo wasn’t there. The bench wasn’t there. And Tommy wasn’t at L’Manberg. As his surroundings deformed, the uplifting notes to Cat morphed into the ominous notes to Mellohi, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a white field, where across the distance was Dream, holding two discs in his hands.

Wait a minute. Tommy shook his head. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong here. He took a step towards Dream and another before he broke out into a full sprint, but no matter how hard he ran, Dream got farther and farther away.

“Wait!” Tommy pleaded. “Come back!”

But his cries were of no use. Dream—the discs—continued to distance himself from Tommy, his cackles resonating and forming into words Tommy couldn’t understand.

“What are you saying?” Tommy yelled as he slowed to a halt. He was panting, leaning against his knees, and when he raised his head, Dream was standing in front of him. A hand yanked Tommy forward by his shirt.

He was face-to-face with Dream’s smiling mask when Dream roared, “I said wake up!”

Tommy’s eyes shot open as he gasped. No, this wasn’t the end of his story. He rose to his two wavering feet, stumbling to regain balance, and pushed forward. His cloak was soaked and didn’t do much good, so he let the storm carry it away. Blocking the incoming frost with his arms, he toiled up the hill ahead, and once he stood at the crest, he gazed upon the tundra, searching for a distant light.

Far away, there was a red circle glowing like a lighthouse calling to lost sailors, which Tommy was in a way. A sailor lost in the midst of a white sea. The closer he got to the light, the clearer its source became. It was from a cabin that had smoke rising from its chimney.

Fire.

Desperately, he trudged through the snow faster, and when he arrived at the cabin, he climbed the stairs to the porch and rapped his knuckles against the spruce door.

“Please open up!” His own voice sounded foreign to his ears. “I need help!”

Inside, there was some fumbling before metal chinked and the door swung open to reveal fucking Technoblade standing in the threshold. Tommy’s heart dropped, and the joyful tears stinging his eyes froze along with his heart.

Without a moment to spare, Tommy drew forth his stone sword and pointed it directly at Techno. Both of his hands were wrapped around the hilt, yet the sword still shook in his hold. 

“Don’t you dare hurt me,” Tommy warned, taking a careful step back.

Techno’s red eyes squinted at Tommy, who flinched as Techno twisted the sword out of his hands with a netherite gauntlet. Tommy fell onto the deck of the porch and looked up at Techno's towering form.

“Are you gonna finish what you started?”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who had me at sword-point.” Techno tossed the stone sword into the snow behind the cabin before retreating back inside. When Tommy didn’t follow, Techno turned around. “Well what are you waiting for, Tommy? Come in.”


	4. Three

There were no better words to describe him. Tommy looked like shit.

Techno watched as Tommy sat across from him at the kitchen table, eating rabbit stew, which was a delicacy because rabbits were rare in the tundra, but Techno was being nice. Tommy literally came to his cabin half frozen to death and scared out of his wits. It was the least Techno could do for the kid, and there was also that conversation with Dream floating in the back of his consciousness.

Pity was probably another cause for Techno’s hospitality, but whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. Tommy was gaunt, pale, and half-dead, and Techno—contrary to common belief—wasn’t a complete monster. He wasn’t going to let a kid die on his front porch. That would lower his real estate value. No one would want to buy a cabin someone died in. 

So, without saying a word, he waited for Tommy to finish the stew, listening to the storm pound against the windows. After a little while, awkwardness had settled in between them like a wall that was growing taller and thicker by the second, so Techno felt compelled to say something just to dispel the silent tension.

From what Techno could tell, Tommy wasn't starting a conversation any time soon. In fact, the kid had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since that debacle on the front porch, so the burden of sparking dialogue fell onto Techno, who had no idea what to talk about. The voices did, though. Their whispers about how he should tell Tommy about Dream's visit were endless, but Techno wasn't so sure he should open that can of worms just yet. 

That was precisely why he settled for the most obvious question to ask in the current situation. "So, is there a reason why you were outside in the middle of a snowstorm?"

Tommy looked up at Techno, his mouth full of stew. After he swallowed, he hummed in deliberation before waving a hand as if he were swatting the question away. "You know, walking around, exploring the terrain. Going on an adventure."

_Lies_ , the voices murmured. Techno squinted his eyes, and Tommy averted his gaze. "Do you know how far we are from L’Manberg?"

Tommy visibly tensed and curled his lips. His grip around his spoon tightened. "We can’t be that far."

Crossing his arms, Techno leaned back in his chair. "Tommy, we’re really far, about three day’s worth of a journey away." 

"Oh, I didn’t know."

Tommy didn't say anything else after that and continued shoveling more stew into his mouth, effectively ending the short exchange. Sleet banged on the windows again, rattling the blinds. Between them, the wall of awkwardness thickened. 

Techno didn’t know whether or not to pry any further. Dream was searching for Tommy, and although Techno was unsure if he should disclose that tidbit of information, the voices were definite. They adamantly demanded Techno to tell Tommy, but instead of yielding to the demands, Techno walked over to a window and peeked through the blinds out of habit.

Ever since Dream had visited, Techno felt eyes on the back of his neck, and even though he knew it was impossible for someone to spy on him in the current weather, he couldn’t help but be wary. The nagging voices were still buzzing in his head, and because he had no more patience to hush the racket, he finally threw the question out into the open. 

"What does Dream want with you, Tommy?" 

There was a tangible shift in the room, and the spoon Tommy was using clattered against the table. His voice was barely audible. "What?"

Sensing the sudden spike in suspense, Techno carefully repeated, "What does Dream want with you?"

There was a long pause, and Tommy's wide, blue eyes were focused on Techno's. It took some effort to not turn away from the utter fear brimming in Tommy's quivering pupils, a kind of fear that Techno never saw before, especially in Tommy. It was unsettling to say the least, but that couldn't compare to what came next. 

Tommy laughed.

But it wasn't his usual spirited laugh. It was fake in every way, trying too hard to fill the obvious holes in his front, and for the first time, Techno realized that Tommy was unnervingly lifeless. He originally thought it was from the snowstorm, but this. . . this was something else entirely.

Tommy wiped his faux tears. “Dream? I don’t know what he wants with me. Why would he bother with someone like me?” Wringing his hands, Tommy chuckled. “You know you’re very funny sometimes for a person such as yourself. I’ll give you that.”

From his spot near the window, Techno studied every twitch in Tommy’s hand, every crack in his facade. “I wasn’t being funny.”

Tommy didn’t get the message, however, and continued rambling about how L’Manberg was rebuilding and how Dream had nothing to do with it. Techno didn’t miss how Tommy’s brows furrowed everytime he said Dream’s name and how Tommy broke off on the subject of Tubbo’s presidency and quickly went on a tangent about how well everyone was faring. 

As he read into each twitch of Tommy’s fingers and quaver in his voice, Techno thought that readily handing an anarchist this information about L’Manberg was quite foolish. The voices agreed and demanded blood, but Techno quelled them with the fact that he was on retirement and that there was something amiss with everything. With Dream, L’Manberg, and Tommy. 

So before Techno got too invested, he interrupted Tommy in the middle of his rant about how so many people suffered from having to fix the mess Techno made with the withers and said, “Okay, I get it. If you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t. You don’t need to don a mask.”

With just those words, Tommy fell silent and looked down at his unfinished stew. No joking. No yelling. No cursing. None of the usual playfulness Tommy carried around. Just silent submission. 

And it made Techno feel horrible. 

Picking another spoon from a drawer across the kitchen, Techo handed it to Tommy. "When you finish, you can sleep in the bed upstairs. I’ll take the floor." 

To give Tommy some space to himself, Techno left early and climbed the ladder to the second floor. He pulled a few blankets from his chests and placed them on the ground for him to rest on. Laying down, he listened to Tommy finishing his meal below. There was the sound of water splashing and plates clattering, and soon after, steps ascended the ladder.

Techno closed his eyes but paid attention to the footfalls around him. Tommy was light on his feet, tiptoeing around Techno. Sheets rustled and springs squeaked as Tommy entered the bed, and after that came a hush that was only disturbed by the storm outside. Before retiring to slumber, Techno waited for Tommy to fall asleep, and when he finally heard the even rise and fall of Tommy’s chest, Techno let exhaustion take him out as well.

* * *

Over the night, the blizzard slowly died out, and all that was left of its fury were gentle snowflakes whirling to the earth. A light breeze whisked a couple of snowflakes towards Techno’s cabin, where frost gathered and coated a window on the second floor. 

Inside, Tommy was resting on Techno’s bed, eyes closed and face illuminated by the moonlight. His breaths were steady, as were Techno’s from his spot on the ground, and all was tranquil until Tommy opened his eyes. 

A reflection of his blue irises surrounded by ice stared at him from the window and followed his movements as he pushed himself up onto his hands. Even as he removed the sheets and stood barefoot on the cold, spruce wood floors that sent chills up his legs, Techno didn’t wake.

Ducking his head, Tommy glanced out the window and speculated that the sun wouldn’t rise until three or four more hours passed, so carefully maneuvering his way around Techno, Tommy tiptoed to the ladder. He was about three paces away when the floor creaked beneath him and Techno stirred. The whole world held its breath as Techno mumbled something in his sleep and continued to dream. When the danger had passed, Tommy released the breath he had been holding and descended the ladder all the way down to the basement. Once his feet touched stone brick, he turned to find stacks upon stacks of chests piled on top of each other in the back. On his left were spruce doors that led outside—the perfect escape. 

Walking up to the nearest chest, he scoured for weapons and items he would need to survive in the Nether. Based on memory, he knew there was a Nether portal nearby, and since there was no way in hell Techno was going to help him, Tommy decided to take matters into his own hands.

He took a full set of netherite armor, a diamond sword, some potions, ender pearls, golden apples, and a few glass bottles filled with water. He dug through the chests again in search of a shield only to find stacks of gunpowder and blaze rods. There were also no more potions except the three he had in his hand: one regeneration and two invisibility. 

“For a rich man, Techno, you’re really poor in potions and shields,” Tommy muttered.

There were enough materials to brew more potions, but time was of the essence. For all Tommy knew, Techno could come marching down any second, and only the heavens could tell what consequences Techno’s wrath would bring. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as terrible as Dream’s. Tommy shuddered as the memories of Dream blowing up his items played in his mind. He had to get out of here.

Wearing the armor and storing all of his items away in his personal inventory, he grabbed a black, dusty cloak from the bottom of one of the chests filled with extra red royal gowns to keep warm and faced the spruce doors. Gripping his Your Tubbo compass once, he opened the doors and plowed his way through the deep snow, not noticing the shadow watching him from the second story window.

* * *

Techno watched as Tommy trudged away from the cabin, and once the kid was out of sight, Techno went to the basement to check his inventory. Tommy didn’t take anything of importance except that set of netherite armor, but it didn’t matter that much. Techno had plans to fix his current set anyway.

After checking his inventory, he climbed back up the ladder, wondering whether he should follow Tommy. The voices were shouting at him to go and help, and they were so loud that by the time he arrived at the first floor, he had to take a break. One hand supported him against the wall, while the other clutched the side of his head, his fingers threading through the pink strands of his hair. It had been a while since the voices were this powerful. Choosing to stay home instead of going on that adventure took such a massive toll on him. 

Groaning, he stumbled his way over to a chair at the kitchen table and sat. He tried his best to subdue the multitude of whispers in vain, and eventually ended up banging a fist against the tabletop. Fine, he would set out on an adventure as soon as the sun was up, the weather be damned. Then he could stab something and quiet the voices for a while.

Looking up at his ender chest, he had a basic idea of what he would do. He ambled over to his ender chest isolated in the corner of the room and opened it. On top of all the items inside was the map to the woodland mansion Dream gave him. Tommy could handle his own problems. Techno had his own important matters to attend to.


End file.
